Page 26 of How to Survive Your Own Death

The building had been undergoing renovations for the last few years, which meant there was always noise during the day. She could deal with it. The building controlled the heat and had the furnace on full blast all winter long. With the afternoon sun, her apartment was a sauna. Bad for Geri. Good for the cat.

The rent was reasonable. Not cheap. Geri didn’t think cheap rent existed anymore, anywhere. Renovations had somehow eluded her apartment, which meant she could afford it. The worst thing she had to complain about was that it was too warm in the winter. Boohoo.

The neighborhood, despite being central and near the historic landmarks, was quiet. To the east were very expensive eighteenth- and nineteenth-century homes and exactly what one pictured when anyone mentioned Colonial-era Philadelphia. Trendy clubs, restaurants, and shops lay to the west. Everywhere she wanted to be was within walking distance. She could ride her bike to work, weather permitting, and bus when not. It was vibrant and alive, exactly the kind of place she always wanted but her ex-husband convinced her that they needed a car to move his photo equipment. Renting a parking spot was too expensive, so it made sense to live in the suburban northeast section of the city.

He was right about parking. The cost for a spot in the garage was outrageous. With the annual fee to the bike storage room less than a hundred dollars, she’d take her bike, thank you very much. The small inconvenience of having to lug her groceries home a few blocks was a price she gladly paid for city living. And delivery was a thing.

The sun was out; the leaves were on the verge of turning. Going outside would do her good. A walk would let her work out her frustration and she had a lot to be frustrated about.

Reason number one walked alongside her. Bones trotted along, too, occasionally darting away to follow an interesting scent but that was okay. When she returned, she nosed Geri’s hand which felt like a Hey, I’m back. She was a good girl.

“So who’s Management?” Geri asked.

“Pardon?”

“Management. They sent me a message last night on my ghost phone.”

“I do not know.”

Geri wasn’t buying his baloney and made a humming noise. “Really? They haven’t sent you a to-do list in your ghost book?”

“It is not a ghost book. It is The Handbook.” Somehow he managed to say it capitalized.

The square had a decent number of folks enjoying the weather. Tired tourists resting their feet. Office workers eating their lunches. A few people sprawled on blankets on the lawn.

Bones abandoned her and darted across the lawn toward a woman walking a tiny dog on a leash. She ran circles around the oblivious woman, the little dog giving a warning bark. Bones barked back, clearly thinking this was a game.

“Cinnamon, what is up with you? You love the park,” the woman said, picking up the dog and tucking her against her chest.

A couple stopped Geri and asked her to take a photo in front of the fountain, and suddenly she remembered the main reason why she joined the gym and forwent walks around the square. She couldn’t get very far without people stopping to talk.

She took the photo with the couple’s phone, returned it, and headed to a less central path.

“How old are you? And don’t dodge the question this time. That’s a nasty habit of yours,” she said.

“Old.”

“Yeah, but how old is that exactly? Knees hurt when it rains old or time immemorial?”

He remained silent, as if considering his response. “Not quite that old. I have existed for a little more than four centuries.”

So old old. He did say he was from the 17th century, after all.

“Four centuries. Does that mean you were here when⁠—”

He sighed and even though she couldn’t see it, he rolled his eyes, which was quite the feat as he lacked eyeballs. “Through a process I cannot explain, reapers arrive in the world fully formed. We possess all the skills and knowledge we need to perform our duties. And for reasons I cannot explain, a new generation of reapers appear before major historic events.”

“So you were here⁠—”

“I was ready and waiting when the first European colonists arrived,” he said, his voice taking on an ominous tone. “I watched the slaughter of the indigenous people and their slow, systematic eradication. Colonists came. They murdered and stole land. Sometimes they died from disease or violence. Malnutrition. Weather they were unprepared for. A bad tooth. There are infinite ways to die in the new world, Geraldine, and I relished every soul I took.”

“Oh.” She struggled to find her next words. “That must have been difficult.”

“A reaper should not be emotionally attached to mortals,” he said. Geri recognized the words from the handbook. “From my perspective, you are a mayfly. Your life is a pleasant diversion but it is brief. When you are gone, I shall be as I have always been.”

That sounded lonely. Springing into existence, knowing you were only there because a of an oncoming genocide and helpless to save any of the souls around you. All you could do was watch and be there when people died.

They walked in silence. Well, she walked. He sort of floated along.